Maid Marian, and Other Stories

by Molly Elliot Seawell

"Too true, my friend; but the philosophers bid us avoid marriage altogether."

"They did not on that account refrain themselves. However, I escaped until my time came; which is all that any of us can expect. Destiny can overtake all of us—even you, my gay and youthful professor. But I do assure you that Mademoiselle Olga has most beautiful eyes."

When at last I was presented to Mademoiselle Orviéff, I found that she possessed the essence of beauty—which is the power to please. Her appearance was exquisitely feminine, but there was a fire in her eyes and a curve in her red mouth that showed a spirit beyond her outward softness and delicacy. At first I thought her the simplest creature I had ever met with; but I afterward found her to be the most complex. This knowledge was not arrived at in a day, a week, or a month, but in a long period of familiar intercourse. She was a beautiful revelation to me; for the first time I comprehended the charm of a fine intelligence in a woman. She possessed without knowing it, a cultivated understanding, but she always appeared to me, in her serious moments, like a child playing at being wise. She did me the honor to exert all her powers of pleasing upon me, while Count Kourásoff looked on amused at her adroit cajolery of me and her determined effort to win my good opinion. She very soon established a remorseless tyranny over me under cover of the gentlest and most insinuating manner. I was her "dearest professor," her "best of friends," and meantime she held me in the hollow of her little hand. Her devotion to Count Kourásoff was of the nature of a religion. To me, and to all the world but him, she used all the flattering wiles and pretty artifices that render women charming, but she seemed to feel by a fine instinct that she needed but one art with him—to be her own true and natural self.

But the destiny to be loved too much and by too many seemed to be Olga's fate. Among those whom her evident preference for Count Kourásoff had not discouraged was General Klapka, commandant of the garrison at Wilna, and at the same time one of the richest men in Russia. He was a man at all times unscrupulous and dangerous to thwart, and a singular complication placed the power of inflicting a terrible revenge in his hands. Vladimir Kourásoff was stationed with his regiment at Wilna under a sort of surveillance, and General Klapka could add still further to his painful and perilous position. He had more than once intimated to Count Loris that he held Vladimir's life in his hands; and this could be readily believed, for nothing seemed to impress Vladimir with a sense of his danger. He openly and bitterly complained of his banishment from St. Petersburg, and his conduct showed equal levity and recklessness.

I was astonished at the tact and boldness with which Mademoiselle Olga managed so troublesome and dangerous a lover as General Klapka. But Count Loris did not seem disposed to aid her. Whatever anxiety he might feel for Vladimir, he did not on that account do much toward conciliating General Klapka on the occasions—and they were not infrequent—when they met at Antokollo. I made no doubt that each respected the personal courage of the other, but nothing but my friend's coolness under all circumstances and unshaken self-possession foiled General Klapka's evident efforts to disoblige him.

One day Count Loris proposed that we should drive over to Antokollo. It was a lovely afternoon in August, and we went in an open calèche, which we left at the entrance of the grounds. As we walked slowly under the rich and dappled shadows of the beech-trees, we saw a group before us—General Klapka and two aides in brilliant uniform, and Mademoiselle Olga sitting in a rustic chair lazily fanning herself and holding a gay pink parasol over her pretty bare head. No better foil for her youth and loveliness could be imagined than General Klapka. He was awkward and stout, with purplish moustaches and a suspiciously black and luxuriant head of hair. Mademoiselle Olga always described him as looking like a wild beast; and he certainly had a sort of savage glare in his fierce eyes. He did not appear overjoyed to see us as we made our greetings, but Olga, who had appeared somewhat bored before noticing our approach, became all animation.

The two aides, after politely saluting Count Kourásoff and superciliously surveying my plain coat, entered into a deeply interesting conversation with each other. Thereupon Mademoiselle Olga honored me with her particular notice, and, proposing a walk around the grounds, coolly took my arm, leaving Count Loris and General Klapka to pair off together. The latter, though not deficient in breeding, did not respond very cordially to Count Kourásoff's well-bred efforts at a good understanding, and perhaps felt the contrast between his companion's graceful figure and his own ungainly appearance. But whether they got on well or ill appeared to matter very little to Olga: she left them to amuse themselves, and chattered on to me in her pretty and entertaining manner.

The grounds were small but beautifully laid out. We presently came to a bridge over a little stream, and stopped to watch the water tumbling over the rocks at the bottom. Olga, leaning carelessly over the rail, dropped sticks and pebbles into the water, and ended by dropping her fan—a pretty thing of lace and ivory—after them. Of course we each offered to save it, but, with a coquettish imperiousness, she ordered General Klapka to the rescue. The General, highly gratified, tucked his military chapeau under his arm, made his slippery way down the bank, and, stepping cautiously upon the stones, reached out for the fan. In vain; it was just a little beyond him.

"A little farther, General Klapka—only one step more," cried Olga encouragingly.